Mistletoe
by ChekhovTheTroper
Summary: If you're Lisa Rowe and you reside in Claymoore, there's only one way to celebrate the holidays: causing trouble.


**DISCLAIMER: I finally got the ****_Girl, Interrupted _****memoir! I can possess it! Yaaaay—*memoir goes up in flames*—dammit.**

* * *

"Hey, Lisa?" Susanna asks.

"Rnnn." Lisa cuddles against the cushions. Her face is buried in her arms; whatever peeks through her elbows is draped by the wild, unbrushed strands of her hair.

"Lisa?"

"What?" Lisa groans.

"Well, it's the holidays," Susanna says with false cheeriness. When Lisa lifts her heads and squints her eyes, Susanna laughs. "I mean, it's the time to sell your soul in order to get half off for a belt you want since Valerie took away yours."

"Or it's time to suck the manager's dick in order to get free jewelry." Lisa's face puckers briefly, and then she turns to Susanna. "Never suck executive dicks. They're too sour."

"Seriously, though, what do you want for Christmas?"

"I want to die," Lisa says calmly. Acknowledging Susanna's unconvinced response, Lisa smirks and elaborates. "What I mean I want to keep dying and dying so that I'll always come back, and when I come back, the looks on their faces will be priceless. I'll just look at all these nurses and assholes and I'll tell them, _Yeah, I killed myself. But guess what? I'm back. Didn't see that comin', did ya_?"

"Truly the work of a poet," Susanna mutters. Although, a part of her was amazed by Lisa's honesty. In a sense, Susanna understands that there is a part in everyone that wants to die, but Lisa is one of the few that wants to die in order to live.

"So," Lisa goads, "what exactly do _you _want for Christmas, Madam Kaysen?"

"I want to grow a penis in order to keep from being labeled crazy."

Lisa, although thoroughly bored with Susanna waxing poetic, cackles. Susanna kneads her temples, feeling her headache being followed by an onslaught of blurriness. She ignores Lisa's calls for attention, as she lets the waves in her head reverberate. Once the tide is now at bay, she turns and is stunned to see Lisa's legs brazenly spread apart.

"Wanna see _my _dick, Kaysen?" Lisa purrs. "I'll fuck you for ten bucks."

"Shut the fuck up!" Susanna laughs, nudging her. The two women exchange more crude gestures, leaving each other in aching hysterics. Susanna is wiping tears from her eyes and clutching at her stomach whereas Lisa's joviality is rehearsed and controlled.

Daisy walks by, notices the two girls in the TV room, and cringes. "You two are so immature, it's disgusting."

Lisa's eyebrows arch. She contemplates her response, slowly closing her legs. While Daisy is leaning over the counter, waiting for the nurse to arrive in order to get some Ex-Lax, Lisa whistles. "Hey, Daisy. No need. I have some Ex-Lax in my pocket."

"Really?" Daisy asks, piqued.

"Yeah, but you gotta come over, first."

Daisy eyes Lisa for a moment, but decides that she'd rather take her chances. However, as Daisy advances forward, she instead sees Lisa flinging the rim of her shirt over her head and exposing her perk, but wrinkled breasts. Daisy gapes while the other girls in the room shriek with breathless laughter.

"That is not funny, you bitch!" Daisy shouts before storming off.

"You gotta touch 'em in order to get your Ex-Lax, princess."

"Fuck off."

"Wanna suck my dick under the mistletoe, too? You've done it before."

Daisy storms into her room. Lisa mumbles, slumping back down onto the couch. Susanna blinks at Lisa, stunned. "Wow. You are horrible."

"I know. Seriously, though, have you even _kissed _under the mistletoe? You've done so many things, I figured—"

"I never really got off on that." Susanna admits.

Lisa straightens her shoulders, examining Susanna's face. "Really, now?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't go for traditional folly. I mean, I'm already trapped in endless patterns already. Why add making out underneath frosted moss to the list?"

"Hey, at least I actually fuck people under the mistletoe. I make up my own tradition. Besides, if you tell yourself it's magical, it's not magical; if you tell yourself you're being an idiot, it's funnier than hell."

"That's sweet of you, Lisa," Susanna rolls her eyes, "but I'm not fundamentally stable like you."

"No, you're not." Lisa looks around the room, tapping her fingers on her knees. A vase holding a fake fern is placed in the middle of the coffee table. It doesn't take Lisa more than a minute to kick it off, resulting in a resounding _crash! _onto the floor.

Valerie's voice booming from the nurse's office: "What the hell was that?"

Susanna perks up, trying to decipher Lisa's plot. Before she can even ask why, Lisa has already reached for the fern and is now holding it over their heads. Lisa kisses Susanna softly, only savoring the moment when all the other patients hoot and holler at the sight. The kiss disintegrates once the nonsense levels out, but Susanna marvels over how Lisa immediately switches gears. After her mission is done, she flips her top off and slings it across the room.

Valerie enters the TV room and stops short from the sight of Lisa topless. "Jesus Christ."

"What's the matter, Val?" Lisa catcalls. "You never seen tits before?"

Valerie calls for male nurses to escort Lisa to solitary confinement. Even as they drag her away, both her and Susanna are laughing out loud.

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**A/N: Yep. That's right. I celebrated Christmas by giving you my first (and probably last) femslash fic. You're welcome and Merry Christmas! XD**

**-Peace from the gun-troper**


End file.
